


The Big Miracle

by Sherlock1110



Series: Random one shots [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Mycroft with baby Rosie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9349811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110
Summary: John finds himself in (good) shock when Sherlock takes him and Rosie to his parents.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr
> 
> The season finale prompted fics galore. A few more will be up today and there will be many more in the coming days!

“We were so sorry to hear about Mary, dear. She was a wonderful woman and would have been a wonderful mother.”

John glanced up as Mrs. Holmes bustled into the room. She placed a mug of tea on the table in front of him. He was waiting for the remark about the way he'd treated Sherlock after she had died, but it never came.

He shot a look across the room at the youngest Holmes, but Sherlock was steadfastly ignoring them. At least, he was pretending to. Sherlock never ignored anything, he just chose to delete some aspects of conversations that he didn't find especially important.

He returned his attention to Mrs. Holmes, “Thank you. She was. It's been… very hard. But… well, Sherlock's been amazing.”

Mrs. Holmes grinned. “Sherlock's always been amazing.”

The detective rolled his eyes, but still didn't look up, concentrating on his phone instead.

So Sherlock hadn't told his parents about what he had done after the death of his wife… he was rather shocked by that. Especially seeing as it had gone on for months. And even many more months later he still felt guilty.

“You don't need to tell me. He saved my life.” She smiled warmly, understandingly, but John paused, frowning. “Where's Rosie?”

That finally got Sherlock's attention. He looked his mother up and down, once, twice and then chuckled.

“Sherlock?”

The detective tried his hardest to press his lips into a thin line, but he just burst out laughing again, unable to control himself. He glanced over at John and the look on his face reminded him of his gallivant in his Mind Palace, so many months ago. _Sherlock, tell me where my bloody daughter is, you pompous prick, or I’ll punch your lights out!_ He assumed that the non-verbalisation of something similar hadn't happened because of something to do with the fact his mother hadn't left the room.

Violet shared an understanding smirk with her son before bustling out of the room again.

“Sherlock… would you care to elaborate?” He contained his swearing in case Mrs. Holmes reappeared.

John was expecting a shrug and he return to his typing, but instead Sherlock clapped his hands and got to his feet. “Come on, then.”

He went out through a different door than the one Mrs. Holmes had come in through. John watched him for a moment before getting to his feet himself and following.

But when John caught him up, Sherlock was holding his finger to his lips. Frowning, but still glaring, the doctor crept on behind him.

They went up a set of stairs and stopped outside an open door that John didn't recognise. Inside was a large four poster bed, and on the bed…

Rosie was laid on her back on top of the covers, staring up at the other occupant of the room. John had to take another step in to see who it was and even then he had to do a double take.

“Such a big miracle in such a little girl,” Mycroft was on one knee and had his hand resting on her stomach wiggling it beneath his fingers.

Rosie was chuckling away watching the government official. “I once said that John Watson-”

“Da-da-da.”

“Yes, da-da, quite right. I once said he would be the making of my brother,” he sighed heavily, but it was clearly for Rosie's entertainment because she chuckled again, a deep belly laugh that always made John smile and think of Mary. “But I rather think it'll be you.”

“Sh-sh-sh-da-da.”

“Yes, my dear, but pick one, do not mix them into one word, you might come out with something absurd,” he paused for a moment. “Something like 'Johnlock'.”

Rosie ignored him and continued babbling mainly nonsense. “Sh-sh-sh-da-da-da-sh.”

At the same time as John said “Sherlock” Sherlock said “da-da” making three heads turn in his direction.

“What?” He asked incredulously. He was entirely unaware of what his best friend's daughter called her father.

“Mycroft…” John started, unsure as he turned his attention away from one Holmes to place it on the other.

A soft blush moved up the back of Mycroft's neck, contrasting with the grey of his waistcoat. He bent over to pick Rosie up and the baby latched onto his tie, John had to hide his smirk. He didn't know whether it was the fact Mycroft let it happen or the fact his tie matched the colour of the blush now blooming prominently.

“Doctor Watson-”

“Don't. Just don't.”

Mycroft frowned. “Don't?” Had he done something wrong? He had told his brother he wasn't good with humans… secretly meaning babies.

“You're holding my daughter - rather well, I might add. But I think it's about time you called me John.”

“Right,” the government official cleared his throat. “Of course. John,” it was almost said like he was trying the word out.

“Sh-sh-sher…”

“Sherlock is his name,” Mycroft told the babbling baby. “If you could quite possibly struggle to the end?”

Rosie just tugged at his tie, winding her fingers in the soft fabric.

Sherlock was laughing softly at Mycroft's words, knowing them all too well. That had been one hell of Christmas, too.

A sudden smell erupted from Mycroft's side of the room and Sherlock screwed his nose up. “Mycroft!”

“It wasn't me!” He countered, grumpily, despite knowing his brother knew full well where the smell had come from.

Mycroft walked straight to the blond and handed the baby over, only pausing to prise his tie free from tiny fingers and tuck it back into his waistcoat.

“I think I shall remain with 'Doctor Watson',” he offered with a sarcastic smile. “At least while she smells like that.”

Sherlock laughed and ran from the room. To John's utmost shock and possibly horror, Mycroft ran out after him.


End file.
